And raw in fields the rude militia swarms, Mouths without hands; maintaind at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence; Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever but in times of need at hand.
Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own; He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have livd to-day.3
Imitation of Horace. Book iii. Ode 29, Line 65.
Note 1. And love the offender, yet detest the offence.Alexander Pope: Eloisa to Abelard, line 192. [back]
Note 2. Heureux qui, dans ses vers, sait dune voix légère, Passer du grave au doux, du plaisant au sévère. Nicholas Boileau-Despreaux: LArt Poétique, chant 1er.
Formed by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe. Alexander Pope: Essay on Man, epistle iv. line 379. [back]
Note 3. Serenely full, the epicure would say, Fate cannot harm me; I have dined to-day. Sydney Smith: Recipe for Salad. [back]